What Not to Wear
by jlm110108
Summary: Clinton and Stacy of TLC's "What NOT to Wear" find a victim in Pasadena.
1. Chapter 1

"What Not to Wear"

"... happy birthday, dear Megan! Happy birthday to you..."

Megan grinned at the friends circling the dining room table in the Eppes family's beautiful craftsman house. "You guys! Thank you!"

Laughing, Charlie started to sing the second verse, "How oh-old are you?..."

Amita poked him in the ribs, "Charlie! You know you should never ask a woman her age!"

Megan leaned forward and gave Charlie a kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry, Amita. He'll get his."

"Wh- what are you two talking about?" Charlie looked from Megan to Amita. "Do you have something planned?"

"Charlie!" Alan scolded. "You're just too suspicious. Come on, Megan, cut the cake."

"Aw, Alan, I hate to cut it. It's so pretty. You did a wonderful job."

Colby, David and Don started chanting, "Cut the cake! Cut the cake!"

"Wait," Amita said. "I think we have a couple more guests."

Amita and Megan hurried to the front door and threw it open. Two strangers, a tall, thin man and a petite brunette woman stood in the doorway with a television cameraman standing behind them. Laughing, Amita called, "Charlie! It's for you?"

Charlie scowled, walking to the door. "Oh, no! I told my publicist I was not going to do any more TV..."

The woman, flashing a huge smile, stepped forward, "Charlie Eppes?" At his nod, she continued, "We're not from your publicist. We're Stacy and Clinton from TLC's 'What Not to Wear.'"

Charlie blinked in confusion. "TLC? What's TLC?" Understanding dawned and his eyes widened, "'What Not to Wear?'" He turned to Amita and Megan who were laughing uncontrollably. "You! You did this!?"

Stacy and Clinton came into the room, and stood, one on each side of the perplexed professor. Clinton said, "Charlie, some of your dearest friends are concerned about you. Now that you're a best-selling author, they think your image needs a little... uh... cleaning up."

Stacy stepped back and tugged at Charlie's tie, knotted unevenly around his too-loose collar and dribbling over his untucked dress shirt. "I'm guessing you wore this tie to your bar mitzvah." She put her hand on his shoulder and turned him a quarter turn. "And elbow patches? Charlie! Those went out of fashion before you were born."

Blushing, Charlie said, "So these two brought you here to insult me and embarrass me on some cable TV show?"

Stacy took Charlie's arm. "Your friends brought us here because they love you and they want you to look your best now that you're a celebrity."

Clinton continued, "Leave the crumpled khakis and dirty sneakers to the undergrads, Charlie. Start looking like the successful young genius I hear you are."

Stacy held out a debit card. "And if you turn your wardrobe, your hair," she tousled his unruly curls, "and your scruff over to us," she ran her hand along his chin, "we'll give you $5,000 to spend on a new wardrobe. What do you say, Charlie? Are you going to let us tell you what not to wear?"

He glanced at Amita. She was biting her lower lip and looking at him with the expression he could never resist. He sighed, turned to Stacy and nodded. "All right."

Amita enveloped him in a hug and kissed him. "I can't wait," she murmured.

Charlie pasted a smile on his face and turned to Stacy. "So now what?"

"Can we cut the cake?" Don asked. "I'm hungry!"

Alan picked up a knife. "I'll cut it while the TV folks get their equipment set up. Stacy, Clinton, would you like some birthday cake?"

While the camera crew set up their equipment and Colby and David helped arrange chairs in the living room, Alan and Megan distributed slices of cake, and Larry dished out his homemade vanilla ice cream. Charlie watched the proceedings with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.

Amita sidled next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Are you okay with this?"

He kissed her on the cheek. "Why wouldn't I be? I wonder how many of my students watch this show... Am I about to lose whatever vestige of dignity and professionalism I had?"

"I would guess over half of the girls watch the show. And you know I love you just the way you are, but a professional makeover can't hurt your image."

"What do they do on this show?"

"Well, they're going to show you a video of... well, of your friends and family discussing your wardrobe. Then they'll have you bring all of your clothes to their studio. Then they'll put you in a three hundred sixty degree mirror and tear your wardrobe to shreds."

"Not literally, I hope."

"No, not literally. But they'll point out what you're doing wrong."

"The tie, the khakis, the sneakers..." Charlie said numbly.

"And the untucked shirt. Don't forget the untucked shirt," Amita said, trying not to laugh.

"Is it too late to tell them I'm not interested?"

Don handed Charlie a plate of cake and ice cream. "Ah, come on, Buddy. This'll be a lot of fun. Don't forget the $5000. That can get you a lot of khakis and tee shirts."

Charlie snorted. "I have a feeling those two aren't going to let me get away with buying what I like."

Alan grinned broadly as he approached. "And don't forget the hair, Don. Once their hairstylist gets ahold of him..."

Charlie clapped his hand protectively on his head. "There's nothing wrong with my hair! I've been told the girls love it."

Amita took his hand and said soothingly, "Your hair is beautiful. They'll just help you make the best of your natural assets."

Megan came up behind Charlie and slapped him playfully on the butt. "I always thought you had very good natural assets, Charlie."

"Don," Charlie chuckled, "I think you'd better reprimand your agent for sexual harassment."

"All right," Stacy beckoned the group. "Let's take our seats and see what Charlie's friends..."

"So-called friends," Charlie amended.

"Charlie's friends," Stacy continued, "have to say about his wardrobe. Charlie, you come sit between me and Clinton." Once they were settled, Stacy said, "We've assembled a little video. I understand Megan and your brother, Don, are FBI agents, and that you use your math skills to help them solve crimes. Is that right?"

"Yes, it is," Charlie smiled shyly. "It's always a thrill to be able to help put a criminal behind bars."

"I'm sure it is," Clinton replied. "But they've taken us to a different kind of crime scene," he pushed the button on a remote, and the TV screen in front of them came to life. "Your closet is a crime against fashion."

Charlie was embarrassed to watch four of the people he trusted most in the world making fun of some of his favorite clothes. Megan held up eight sport coats on hangers. She turned them, and said, "Elbow patches! Charlie, you know I love you, but I don't think you own a single jacket without elbow patches. Did someone tell you that professors were supposed to dress like this?"

The camera panned to Amita, who was holding up the multi-colored jacket he had worn the day he said goodbye to Susan Berry. "Megan, this is one jacket that could have benefited from elbow patches. At least they'd cover some of this horrendous fabric." Charlie wisely bit his tongue, but he had a suspicion Amita connected the jacket with Susan, and that was the true basis for her contempt for it.

Don held up an armload of tee shirts. Charlie could clearly see his favorite red tee shirt with the periodic table on the front. Don was saying, "Now this is one thing Charlie inherited from Dad – his love of tee shirts. Dad has an excuse. He's a child of the sixties. But Charlie, this is a new millenium. Don't you think it's time to dress like a grownup?"

The camera panned to Alan, who was holding a pair of Charlie's favorite old comfortable jeans in one hand, and a wrinkled pair of khakis in the other. "Would you believe he wears these with sport coats? Stacy and Clinton, you need to help my son!"

Clinton pressed a button on the remote and the screen went dark. He faced the camera that had been filming the whole debacle, and smiled, "Alan Eppes, don't you worry. We will help your son, even if it kills him."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: 

Charlie waved the contract under Amita's nose. "It's like a cult! Look at this! They will fly me to New York. Just me. No family members. No friends. No support group. I think they're going to brainwash me."

Amita giggled. "I'll pay my own way, Charlie. They don't even have to know I'm there. You have to do a video diary, but I'll leave the room when you do it." She gave him a squeeze. "Don't worry. Your brain is too strong to be washed."

Charlie shook his head. "I do have the willpower of a field mouse."

"I'll be there to make sure you don't let them do anything insane like give you a crew cut."

"But you won't be there. I've watched the show now, and I know that I'll be all alone with that Nick guy and he's going to shear me like a sheep."

"Next thing you know, you'll be worrying about Carmindy putting eye shadow on you."

"She wouldn't, would she? I've never seen them work with a man before."

"Just sign the contract, Charlie. I won't be with you in the room, but you know I'll be waiting in the hotel for you, and I'll love you no matter what they do. Anything they do can be undone. You can throw the clothes away and let your hair grow out. Just give them a chance. They may have some good ideas."

"All right. I'll sign it. And I'll pay for your airfare and meals. I think I can probably sneak you into my room. And maybe I'll spend some of that $5000 on a sexy new negligee for you."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

Tony, the limousine driver brought them to their hotel, but left Charlie's boxes full of clothes in his trunk. "The crew'll bring most of that up to the studio, but they're going to want to get some footage of you lugging some of it up the stairs. It's more dramatic that way. You two enjoy your evening, and I'll be here promptly at six tomorrow morning to take Dr. Eppes to the studio."

Amita smiled, "Which leaves me to see New York on my own."

"I'll have him back here a little after six tomorrow night."

Charlie paled. "Twelve hours?"

"Don't worry," Amita led him into the hotel lobby. "I'll be waiting in our room with a stiff drink and a backrub waiting for you."

Tony grinned as he turned back toward his car. "I'd take her up on that, Doc. I could go through twelve hours of just about anything if I knew there was a sweetheart like that waiting for me."

The next morning, Charlie entered the lobby, blinking groggily, promptly at six. Amita had awakened just enough to kick him out of bed, and then had gone back to sleep. Tony stood by the check-in desk, holding a cup from Starbucks. When he saw Charlie, he held up the cup. "Dr. Eppes!"

"Oh, hi, Tony. Please, call me Charlie."

"Well, here you go, Charlie. I figured you could use this."

Charlie drank the coffee on the way to the studio. He sat in the front with Tony, and even though he'd been to New York City many times, he let Tony act as tour guide. By the time they arrived at the studio, Charlie was awake and ready to face the fashionistas who held his life in their hands.

The show's producer met him in the lobby with a cameraman. "Hi, I'm Andrea," she shook hands with Charlie.

She got a few shots of him lugging a trash bag full of clothes into the building, then had him take them up the stairs to the second floor. There, an employee took the bag and they boarded the elevator. Andrea grinned at Charlie's confused expression. "It's all for effect. The clothes Tony brought in yesterday are already arranged on hangers, but we're going to have you hang these up. It give the impression that we made you lug everything in and hang it up yourself. We're not as mean as we look."

"That's encouraging."

Once the clothes were hung, Andrea took him to makeup. "Don't worry. We're not going to make you look like a girl. The camera and lights tend to make you look washed out. We don't want you to look like you're jetlagged at six o'clock in the morning."

Charlie chuckled. "So reality TV is a misnomer."

"You don't know the half of it. Don't worry. Just go with the flow and you'll do fine. I guarantee you'll have fun."

"If nothing else, I got a free trip to New York."

"True. Have you been here before?"

"Oh, yeah, lots of times. It's a great city."

They chatted as the makeup artist got Charlie ready. Once he was finished, Andrea led him back to the studio. This time Stacy and Clinton were waiting for him. "Ready to go?" Stacy asked.

Charlie took a deep breath and nodded. "I hope so."

"Okay," Andrea said, "we're going to start shooting in a few minutes. Charlie, we need you to just engage in conversation with Clinton and Stacy. Forget the rest of us are here."

Charlie glanced around the stage dubiously. "I'll try."

Once the cameras were rolling, it took Charlie about two minutes to forget about everything except the two people who were making fun of his clothes.

Stacy's first target was the multi-colored jacket Amita hated. "What were you thinking with this thing?"

Clinton picked up a sleeve and studied it. "I'll bet he was thinking it would go with anything."

Charlie nodded. "Actually, I was. All the colors..."

Stacy tossed the offending jacket into a waiting trash can. "That thing clashes with itself. And what is with you and tee shirts?" She held up a stack of shirts. "I realize you live in California, and life is a little more laid back out there, but really..." she held up a gray shirt with two lines of script writing on it. "'I don't know karate but I know krazy?' Charlie! What the heck is that?" The stack of shirts joined the jacket in the trash can.

"It's a quote from James Brown," Charlie said feebly.

"Well, he's dead, and so's this shirt," Clinton picked up a pair of olive cargo pants. "Now what do we have here? Unless you saved these from elementary school, I'm guessing these are capri pants. You've got two things going against you here, Charlie – capris and cargo. You are what I would call modestly statured..."

Stacy laughed, "Now, Clinton, everybody is short next to you."

"You're what, Charlie, five six? Five seven?" Clinton didn't wait for an answer. "And, you are not thin. You're not quite stocky, but clothes like this make you look shorter and heavier. I'm sure that's not the look you're going for." He tossed the pants into the trash can.

Stacy took Charlie's hand and led him to what looked like a circular porta potty. "Charlie, why don't you step into our three hundred and sixty degree mirror so you can see what we're talking about."

Charlie glanced down. Jeans, a black sport coat with black suede elbow patches, a striped dress shirt, a narrow black tie, and sneakers. This part should be easy. He looked just fine. He stood alone inside the porta potty, intrigued by the angles of the mirrors and the way his image was reflected, when he heard Stacy's voice, "So, Charlie, what do you see?"

"Well, the angle of reflection is..."

"Your clothes, Charlie," Stacy said with a chuckile. "What do you notice about your clothes?"

He studied his reflection. "Well, I think I look pretty good. My jeans aren't wrinkled. I think the black jacket makes me look..."

The door opened behind him and Clinton climbed into the mirrored room with him. He stuck his finger into the collar of Charlie's shirt. "What do you think, Stacy? Is this neck one size too big or two?"

"At least two," Stacy reached up and grabbed Charlie's shirt cuff. "And the sleeves are at least two inches too long." She grabbed the hem of Charlie's untucked shirt. "Big boys tuck their shirts in, Charlie. The shirt tails hanging out make you look shorter."

"You look dwarfed by your clothes," Clinton said, "And from what we saw out there, I think you're dressing way too young, and definitely too casually. You're a respected professional."

"You're quite a phenomenon. Not only are you a best selling author, you're a world-class mathematician who was published at the ripe old age of fourteen," Stacy said, stepping back. "But I'm afraid you're still dressing like a fourteen year old. We'd like to show you the way you should dress. Come on."

They led him to three mannequins that hadn't been there when he went into the mirror room. "These are your rules," Clinton said, "We don't want you to go out looking for these exact outfits. We want you to understand the concepts, and then go from there."

"This," Stacy indicated the first mannequin, "is what we'd like to see you wearing to work..."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Amita sat on the bed reading when she heard the rattling of the doorknob. She put her magazine aside and picked up the glass of Charlie's favorite scotch she had poured moments earlier. When she caught sight of his face, she decided the scotch might not be enough. "Oh, Charlie, you look…"

He silenced her with a kiss. When they drew back from each other he murmured, "I do not want to hear one more comment about how I look." He accepted the glass she handed him. "Thank you. How was your day?" He took a sip and grimaced at the burn.

"My day was wonderful," she said as she took his hand and led him to the bed. "Sit." When he complied, she bent and removed his sneakers. "Put your feet up, drink your scotch and tell me about how it went. Was it as bad as you feared?"

"Not really. I do feel like my head is going to explode. The rules made a lot of sense when they explained them, but once I was surrounded by clothes, my mind went blank. Luckily, they sent a stylist along with me to help remind me of the rules."

"Really? I didn't know they did that."

"It helped a little, and I think by the end of the day I actually started to understand what they were trying to tell me."

Amita noticed the small bag he had dropped onto the bed. "That's all you bought?"

"They took all my new clothes back to the studio. I heard it was so they could go through them and return my mistakes." He smiled and handed her the bag. "Open it."

She pulled a beautiful silk negligee from the bag and leaned over to give him a kiss. "Thank you, Charlie."

"I actually bought it for me. Not for me to wear," he blushed, "After the day I've had, I need to see you in it. This," he pulled a small box from his pocket, "is for you."

Amita opened the box and gasped. "It's beautiful." She picked up the pendant and quickly put it on. "What kind of stone is this?"

"It's a fire opal. No real significance other than I thought it would look incredible against your skin." He bent and kissed her throat. "I was right. I guess this one was for me too."

She snuggled against his chest. "But you're still going to have to tell me everything that happened today."

"Watch the show. It'll be on in a few weeks." He grunted as she punched him playfully. "Ouch. Okay, they ridiculed every piece of clothing I brought. I think everything except what I'm wearing ended up in the trash can."

"On the bright side, you do know that they don't really throw the clothes away. They donate them to charity."

"Yeah, they told me. I'm going to ask them for a receipt for my taxes. I'm going to be taxed on the cost of this trip and the $5000, so I might as well get something back for it."

"So what are your rules? What do they want you to wear?"

"Well, they want my shirts fitting better. They said my collars are too big and my sleeves are too long. They suggested that I wear sport coats and slacks in similar color. Breaking up the vertical lines makes me look shorter. Clinton also thinks I dress too casually. But he's a New York guy. California is a whole different world." He paused to sip his scotch and give Amita another kiss.

"But there's a lot about the way you dress that I like."

Charlie gave her a wry grin. "You should have thought about that before you sent in the application. Everything we brought out here is gone. They did like the black jacket, but the elbow patches ruined it for them. So I found a similar jacket that followed the rules."

"That's good. I always liked you in that jacket. You look good in black. But that red tee shirt… Everything's gone?"

"Everything. Say, Tony told me about a great restaurant two blocks from here. I took the liberty of making reservations for 8:00. That is, if you don't mind being seen with me looking like this."

Tears sprang to her eyes as she hugged him. "Oh, Charlie! I love being seen with you. I hope you don't think…"

He shrugged. "What else was I supposed to think? I saw the video." He sat up and stretched. "I'm going to take a quick shower." He leaned over and gave Amita quick kiss. "Don't worry. I know you're just trying to help. I love you."

As she watched him walking to the bathroom, Amita wondered for the first time if signing him up for the show had been the right thing. He's so sweet, she thought. She fingered the pendant around her neck. Even after I did this to him, he bought me this beautiful necklace. But it was too late now. The damage had already been done.

Tony had told Charlie that the restaurant was a quiet little place, frequented by more locals than tourists and that they made the most amazing prime rib in the city. He had been right about the place being quiet. The narrow first floor had a bar and an elderly lady playing piano. The hostess took them to the second floor dining room, where there were only three other couples seated, and gave them a seat next to the window.

By the time their waitress arrived, they were ready to order. "After Tony's recommendation," Charlie said, "I am going to have to have the prime rib. How about you?" He turned to Amita.

Amita closed her menu. "That sounds great. With all the walking I did today, I think I burned off enough calories."

Charlie squeezed her hand. "You don't have to worry about calories. Speaking of walking, what did you do today?'

"I slept for a while, but then I decided that was dumb. I mean, here I am in one of the most incredible cities in the world, and I'm sleeping. So I went to the J.P. Morgan Library for a few hours, and then to the MOMA."

"I was thinking of spending a couple of extra days here so we could do some sightseeing together."

"I'd like that!" Amita smiled shyly. "I'm glad you're not mad at me."

He gave her a shrug and sipped his ice water. "Do you think we should have ordered an appetizer?"

"Not for me, thanks. Did they feed you today?"

"Yeah. They gave us sandwiches and soda. I want to leave room for the prime rib. Tony also says they have great cheesecake here."

When the waitress returned with their meals, Charlie's eyes grew wide. "I'm glad we didn't order appetizers. This is huge. Or, as the locals say, 'yooj.'"

Charlie's jet lag caught up with him after he finished his cheesecake. He yawned. "If we don't leave soon, you're going to have to carry me back to the hotel."

Amita laughed. "Could we call Tony for a ride? This is his fault, you know. I don't think I've eaten this much in months."

"It was good, wasn't it?" Charlie hailed the waitress and asked for the check. "If we do end up staying, I'd like to come back here at least once."

"Let's stay. I don't have anything that can't be rescheduled. We can call Millie and let her know we were unavoidably detained."

Charlie took Amita's hand. "I love being unavoidably detained with you."

They walked back to their hotel, hand in hand, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, chattering about how they were going to spend the extra time off. When they arrived in the room, Charlie dropped onto the bed, yawning. "It's been a long day," he said as he took off his shoes. "I'm afraid I'm not going to be very entertaining tonight."

"That's okay. You've had a long, stressful day."

"And I have another one ahead of me."

"Is Tony picking you up at the same time tomorrow?"

"Yep. And tomorrow is the hair day." He gnawed on his lower lip. "I think I'm more worried about that than anything."

"Whatever they do, it'll grow back," Amita said gently.

"And I can always wear hats until it does." He got slowly to his feet. "I'm going to brush my teeth and go to bed."

When he returned, Amita was checking her email. She glanced up and smiled. He was wearing his red striped pajamas. She wondered what Clinton and Stacy would think of them, but she was wise enough to not say anything. "You don't mind if I stay up for a while, do you?"

"Not at all. I don't think anything will keep me awake at this point. Not even that new negligee."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

The next morning, Amita got out of bed the minute Charlie's alarm clock went off. He opened his eyes, blinking blearily. "Why don't you go back to sleep?"

"No way. I've decided I got you into this, and I'm going to go with you to give you moral support. Do you want the bathroom first, or do you want another few minutes of sleep?"

"Do you even have to ask?" He closed his eyes. "Wake me up when you're done."

Tony was surprised to see he had two passengers this morning. Amita dazzled him with her smile, "Is it okay if I ride along with you?"

"It's fine with me," Tony said, opening the limousine door. "But you're going to have to find something else to do once we get there. You're not going to be allowed to hang out with Charlie."

"I know. I just wanted to be with him as long as I can. This is going to be a stressful day for him."

Tony grinned. "More stressful than yesterday? The professor here had a pretty rough one yesterday."

Amita snuggled against Charlie. "Yeah, I heard."

Charlie shifted ever so slightly away from her and stared out the window. "She's the one who set me up for this, Tony. She's just feeling guilty now."

"Charlie!" Amita tried to take his hand, but he pulled it back. "It wasn't just me. And we're your friends. We just want you to look as good as you can. You're a great looking guy..."

"A great looking guy who doesn't know how to dress himself or do his hair. Tony, what time do you think we'll be done today?"

"The second day usually takes longer than the first. Stacy and Clinton will go with you for part of the day and help you pull things together. Then you got hair and ... " Tony chuckled. "I was going to say makeup. I guess for guys they do skincare and shaving, and that kind of stuff."

Charlie rubbed his stubbly chin. "So not only are they going to cut my hair, but they're also going to shave me?" He sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to look like by the end of the day, but I'm sure not going to look like me."

Amita bit her lip and refrained from telling him that may not necessarily be a bad thing. Instead she asked Tony, "Can I be there for any part of the taping? Or should I just go back to the hotel when I've finished sightseeing?"

"I'll find Andrea, the show's producer, when we get there and see what she says. Our victims – ah – guests – don't normally bring people along."

It turned out that Andrea was a lot more flexible than Amita had feared. She didn't want Amita present for the shopping or hair, but she decided that she could come back for the taping of the big reveal as long as she stayed away from the camera. Amita took Charlie's hand. "It'll be fine, Charlie." she gave him a quick kiss. "No matter what happens, you're still hot."

Charlie touched her cheek and gazed into her eyes. "I know you meant well, but I am not looking forward to this." He turned to face Andrea with the air of a man facing a firing squad. "I'm ready."

Amita watched Charlie and Andrea walk away. She waited for him to glance back at her, but he didn't. When the elevator door closed behind them, she found herself left alone in the lobby. A quick look at her watch told her it was way too early for stores and museums to be open, so she wandered off in search of breakfast.

Once in the elevator, Andrea shook her head. "You were a little hard on her."

"Do you think she suspects anything? Did I overdo it?"

"Not at all. I think she was hurt more than anything."

"Good. With what she's putting me through, she deserves it."

"I wouldn't have pegged your for the vindictive type, but that line about 'I know you meant well' was like a stab to her heart."

"I did go too far." Charlie checked his watch. "Do we have a few minutes? I need to call her and tell her..."

The elevator door opened and Andrea said, "Nope. We're here and we've got a lot to do today."

Accompanied by Otto, his stylist, Charlie faced the second day of shopping. Back home, he had felt hurt and embarrassed by the ambush. But, looking honestly at Stacy and Clinton's comments and working with Otto, he had begun to accept the fact that he really could look better. He was not about to let Amita off too easily, but this morning he wondered if he had really hurt her feelings. He wondered if he'd go back to the hotel room and find out she had gone back to California.

"Charlie?" Otto interrupted his thoughts, "You ready?"

Charlie nodded as Otto led the way into the next store on the agenda. When he had watched the show a few times to get ready, he had been surprised at how empty the stores had been. Now he understood why. The stores were selected in advance, probably in exchange for the free advertising, and were closed to the public during taping.

Otto was shorter than Charlie, quiet and unassuming, but he obviously knew what he was doing.

Otto studied the store's offerings the same way Charlie studied an algorithm. "Here you go," he said, picking up a pair of jeans and holding them up to Charlie. "Try these. And see if you can find a jacket that goes with it."

Charlie took to the challenge, and several hours later, he had not only spent the last of the $5000, he had added a little bit of his own money to the cause. Stacy and Clinton had arrived in the afternoon, spending a few minutes in front of the camera with him and had reiterated everything the little stylist had taught him.

Nick Arrojo was not the terrifying monster Charlie had dreaded. He approached, grinning, and shook Charlie's hand. Charlie noticed that Nick's hair didn't look that much different from his own. A little shorter. A little less out of control. "Let me have a look," Nick said, walking around Charlie. "Have a seat. So what are you expecting here today?"

Charlie sat, and looked up through his curls at Nick. "I'm not really sure." He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I know my hair is a little out of control. But I don't want to use a lot of product. I tried that a couple of years ago, and it looked greasy and weighed down. And I don't really want to lose the curls." He blushed. "I've been told that the women like them."

"What's your girlfriend think of them?"

"I thought she liked them, but she's the one who nominated me for the show, so I'm not so sure."

Nick sank both hands into Charlie's hair. "I think we can do something with this that everyone will be satisfied with."

When Nick had finished his work, he turned Charlie around to face the mirror. Charlie squinted and turned, studying the results. Finally, a grin crossed his face as he reached up and ran his fingers through the curls. "I like it. You've kept enough of the length, but everything's just a little more under control. And it's not slimy!"

"Well," Nick looked a little relieved, "I do hope the women will still find something to like. Actually, you do have beautiful hair, and I think it just needed a little bit of ..."

"Taming?" Charlie finished with a grin. He ran his hand over his scruffy chin, "Now I guess I have to see Carmindy."

"Here she is now! Good luck, Charlie. It's been great working with you." Nick left the room with a little wave as Carmindy entered.

Carmindy stood behind Charlie, studying his face in the mirror. "I hear you're afraid I'm going to put eyeliner on you."

"That was just a pitiful attempt at a joke. But I am interested in learning what a makeup person would do with a guy."

"It's a natural question. I'll work with you on how you shave and what you do for your skin. And don't worry, you do not have to be clean shaven to look good."

The receptionist paged Andrea when Amita arrived, and then took her to the studio. As they walked, she said, "Okay, Amita, you're going to be in the control room with Andrea and the others. You'll be able to see and hear everything that goes on onstage, but they won't be able to see or hear you. When they're done, they'll take you down to see Charlie. He looks great, by the way. He came through here a little while ago."

Amita smiled nervously. She had no doubt he would look wonderful. "Did he look upset?"

The receptionist stopped and thought for a moment. "No. He looked happy. Of course, I don't know him at all, but he was smiling and laughing."

"That's good. He seemed so upset at me..."

"You nominated him?"

Amita nodded.

"Don't worry, Honey. I have never seen one of Stacy and Clinton's victims leave here angry."

"There's always a first time," Amita muttered as they arrived at the control room.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

Charlie fidgeted nervously as he selected an outfit to wear for his big reveal. It had been hard to listen to the criticism of his favorite clothes, but he had to admit Stacy and Clinton were right. He even liked what Nick had done with his hair.

Otto had come into the room, and stood admiring his charge. "Charlie, you look amazing. Have you decided what you're going to wear?"

"I can't decide. I like it all. I think I'll go with the super-professional look." He held up the three piece charcoal pinstripe suit Otto had helped him select. "With this shirt," he held up a pale blue silk shirt and a paisley tie with deep blues and reds. "What do you think?"

"Great choice. You'll knock Stacy off her stilettos."

"I'm hoping to wow a certain other young lady…"

Otto paused in the doorway. "I saw your young lady in your secret footage. You, my young friend, are an amazingly fortunate guy."

Charlie grinned. "I know." He bit his lower lip. "I hope I haven't blown it."

"Trust me. She won't be able to resist."

Charlie was dressed, waiting nervously for his cue, when Andrea approached him. "You look great, Charlie. How do you feel?"

"Nervous. Is Amita here?"

"She's in the control room. If you peek up there," Andrea pointed, "you can see her. Give her a quick wave and then forget she's there until the taping is over."

Charlie looked into the glass-enclosed control room. At first he didn't see her. She was behind the others, almost hidden in shadows. But then he caught her eye and her smile broadened. He gave her a shy wave and she blew him a kiss, then mouthed, "Wow!"

He felt the red flush creeping over his face as he blew her a kiss and mouthed, "I love you."

Beside him, Andrea chuckled, "And they lived happily ever after. Okay, now, back to business. Forget about Amita."

"I don't think I can. She's pretty memorable." Charlie noticed Andrea's scowl. "But I'll do my best."

"Okay, I'm going up to the control room. Relax. You've survived the hard part. Now the fun begins."

When he received his cue, Charlie strode onto stage, grinning at Stacy's stunned expression.

"Holy crap!" She screamed. "Charlie! Look at you! Come here!"

When he reached the two hosts, they pulled him to stand between them. Clinton tugged at Charlie's collar. "Look at this! A collar that fits."

Stacy took Charlie's hand and held his arm out. "And the sleeves! Before, you were swimming in your shirts." She dropped Charlie's arm and put her hand on his shoulder. "Turn around, Professor, and let's have a look at you."

While Stacy and Clinton were poking and prodding, and waxing eloquent about the cut of the suit and the fit of the shirt, all Charlie could think about was Amita. He resisted the urge to look up at the control booth.

"Professor? Professor? Clinton, I don't think the professor is paying attention in class."

"I think he needs detention," Clinton laughed.

Charlie blushed under his television makeup. "I'm sorry. This is all just so overwhelming. What did you say?"

"Good answer, Charlie," Clinton said. "Why don't you show us something else? Maybe something you'd wear while teaching one of your classes, or solving a murder with your FBI agent brother?"

"Gladly," Charlie risked a glance at Amita as he walked backstage to change.

As he left the stage, he could hear Stacy's comment, "Isn't he cute? I wish my college professors looked like that."

Charlie selected a pair of dark jeans that cost nearly as much as all of his baggy ill-fitting jeans put together. With them he wore a gray long-sleeved tee shirt, a fitted black vest and a pair of dark casual shoes.

Again, Clinton and Stacy gushed over his new look. "Don't you feel a lot more put together, Charlie?" Clinton asked.

"I do." He turned and studied his reflection.

"And you look taller and thinner too," Stacy put her hands on Charlie's waist and turned him. "Before, the baggy jeans and huge sneakers were dragging you down. And on top you had one ill-fitting layer over another, which made you look thicker. But this! You are one hot mathematician."

After the taping was finished, Andrea brought Amita onto the stage. The two professors assessed each other cautiously. After a long moment, Charlie broke the silence, "Hi. How do I look?"

"Turn around and let me see you," she said.

Charlie did a three-sixty. When he faced Amita again, she enveloped him in a hug. "I love it." She released him and stepped back, concern evident on her face. "Are you angry? Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

He took both of her hands in his, leaned forward and gave her a tender kiss. "I was angry at first, but you were right. I needed a makeover."

"Did they really get rid of everything?"

Charlie nodded. "It should be easier to pack for the trip home." He turned to Andrea. "Are we done here?"

"Just about. We have to make arrangements for you to reveal your new look to your friends and family back home."

"That should be interesting," Charlie grinned wryly. "A whole roomful of people saying, 'I told you so.'"

Andrea laughed. "We prefer to think of it as a whole roomful of people celebrating your transformation."

"You say potato..." Charlie put his arm around Amita's waist. "Well, let's go make those arrangements. I have a new look, a lovely companion, and a lot of city to see. I've spent two days in clothes stores. I'm ready to see something a little more interesting."

By the time they left the studio, it was nearly eight o'clock. "Hungry?" Charlie asked.

"Starved. And I'm not in the mood to wait in a fancy restaurant."

"How about pizza? We're only two blocks from Angelo's. Their pizza is awesome, and I think they have the best tiramisu in New York. You want me to get us a cab?"

"I think I can handle walking two blocks. It's a beautiful evening."

"It is." He put his arm around her shoulders. "What do you say we do a little sightseeing after dinner?"

"I'd like that. I want all of Manhattan to see the handsomest, best dressed genius in the whole city."

"Just the city? How about the whole state?" He nuzzled her hair. "I don't remember. Have I thanked you lately?"

When Charlie opened the door at Angelo's, the delicious scents nearly overwhelmed them. He chuckled as his stomach growled. "If we don't order an appetizer, I may just eat the tablecloth."

Fortunately, they were seated quickly, and spent a few minutes discussing the menu.

By the time the waitress appeared, they were ready to place their orders. "We'd like the calamari and the fried broccoli and zucchini to start. And a small pizza with broccoli, peppers, sun-dried tomatoes and ricotta."

As they finished their tiramisu and coffee, Amita sighed. "You were right about this place. The pizza was great, and this tiramisu is wonderful. I wonder if we could talk them into opening a branch in LA."

"We could definitely use a good pizza place there. I love California, but nothing compares with New York City pizza." Charlie paused to sign the credit card slip. "How would you like to see the city from the top of the Empire State Building?"

Amita checked her watch. "Is it open this late?"

"Sure. It's open until one a.m. Why do you think they call this the city that never sleeps?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 

Charlie took Amita's hand as they stepped from the elevator onto the observation deck at the top of the Empire State Building. The breeze they had hardly noticed on the ground turned chilly on the top of the tallest building in New York. Amita gasped. "It's cold up here."

Charlie slipped out of his sport coat and placed it over her shoulders. "We can go back down if it's too cold."

"I'd rather stay" She snuggled against him as they stood against the railing. "Are you warm enough?"

"I'm fine." He pointed at a string of lights in the distance. "Is that the airport?"

"I don't know. It's pretty, though, isn't it?"

"It is. Did you ever get a chance to see the view from the World Trade Center? Before..."

She nodded. "I did. Once. It's hard to believe that this is the tallest building in the city now." She felt Charlie pull away from her and glanced over to see what he was doing. He was down on one knee on the dirty walkway. "Charlie! What are you doing? Get up! Your new pants are going to be filthy."

He reached up and took her hand. "Amita, will you marry me?"

She laughed and sat on his knee. "Quit kidding, Charlie!"

Then she saw the little velvet box in his hand. She gasped as he held the box up and the facets of the diamond caught the city lights. Pulling her eyes away from the ring, she met his gaze. There was no laughter in his brown eyes. Only a blend of hope and love and a touch of worry. She stood up and smiled at him.

"Yes," she whispered. "I will."

He smiled, the worry evaporating from his eyes, and slipped the ring onto her finger. Then he stood and kissed her. The half dozen or so people who had gathered around them applauded and Charlie turned, startled.

A middle aged lady wiped tears from her eyes. "My Scott proposed to me in this very spot and we've been married for twenty nine years."

The man beside her, presumably Scott, shook Charlie's hand. "Congratulations, son. May you have as much joy as my Christine has given me."

Charlie beamed. "Thank you, Sir."

Christine took Amita's hands in hers. "Congratulations, dear," she said. She turned to Scott. "Let's go leave these lovebirds alone to enjoy their moment."

Charlie tucked the box back into his pocket, then took Amita's hand and touched the ring. "Do you like it? We can exchange it if..."

"It's perfect. Did you find it here or back home?"

"Here."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Even after what I did to you? All of the horrible things I said about your clothes and hair?"

He took her face in both hands. "Sometimes friends have to be brutally honest with each other." He chuckled. "The last time I said that was when I was convinced Larry had no chance of blasting off into space."

Amita giggled. "And you see how well that turned out for you. I tried to avoid the 'brutal' part and stick with the 'honest' part."

Charlie kissed her. "But you were right." They strolled along the railing, gazing out at the city lights. "I was upset at first. Even angry. Mostly embarrassed. But once I started shopping, I realized you and Stacy and Clinton were right."

Amita started to say something, but Charlie silenced her with a kiss. "The first day, I told Otto the stylist that I wanted to propose to you. He took me to his favorite jewelry store. The owner helped me pick out this ring." He took her left hand and held it up to the light. "Are you sure you like it? He said we could bring it back and you could pick out something you like."

"I'm sure. I love it almost as much as I love you." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "How'd you know my size?"

Charlie pulled his wallet from his pocket and took out a jade ring. "Recognize this?"

She took the ring from him and put it on her right ring finger. "You went through my jewelry?"

"You went through my closet. With a camera crew. Fair's fair." He smiled. "I found it in your suitcase while you were in the shower. I didn't know your size, and I wanted it to be just right."

"What would you have done if I'd planned on wearing it today?"

Charlie shrugged. "I would have tried to convince you that you left it home. Absent minded professor and all that."

"When are we going to tell everybody?"

"I thought we could announce it at the reveal party back home. Everybody will be there, and we'll have the whole event on video for posterity."

For his big reveal, Charlie had selected a Pasadena institution, Pie 'n Burger. It took some doing, but the promise of national exposure along with a huge fee convinced the owner to let Charlie reserve the whole place for a few hours. Now his friends and family waited for the big moment, enjoying the best burgers in Los Angeles.

Don swallowed the last of his burger and dabbed Thousand Island dressing from the corner of his mouth. "Charlie sure does know how to throw a party." He glanced at his watch. "He should be here any time now, right?"

Alan folded his napkin and put it on the table. "I wonder if we have time for pie before he gets here?"

Millie shrugged. "There's no rule saying we can't keep eating after he gets here. I'll have Dutch apple. How about you, Liz?"

"I think I'll have the carrot cake."

A little further down the counter, Larry shared the last bite of his cheesecake with Megan, and Colby and David were bemoaning the absence of beer.

Outside the restaurant, Charlie opened the car door for Amita. It had taken him a while, but he had finally settled on the pinstriped suit. As he took Amita's hand, he said, "I love that dress on you. Red is definitely your color."

She stood and touched his cheek. "Have I ever told you that you look hot in red. Especially that red tee shirt with the periodic table on it... Oh no... It's gone, isn't it? Donated to some charity in New York, along with your blue pi shirt?"

"Nope," Charlie said, grinning slyly.

"But you were supposed to bring everything."

"Everything I owned. Larry is now the proud owner of several items of clothing that previously belonged to me."

"Once again, you've proved that you're a genius." Amita gave Charlie a quick kiss. "Go on inside. You need to make your entrance for the cameras. I'll wait a few minutes and then come in."

He took her hand and opened the door. "That's silly. Let's go in together. The network folks will get over it."

The cameras rolled as Charlie and Amita walked hand in hand into the diner. "Charlie!" Millie shrieked as she and Alan rushed forward. She grabbed his hands and pulled him away from Amita. "Let me have a look at you. Oh my goodness, Charlie. You were the Sean Connery of the math department before. Now... now..."

"Mildred," Charlie chuckled, "I've never seen you at a loss for words before." He pulled free of her grasp and spread his arms wide. "You like the new duds?"

Alan stepped forward and ruffled Charlie's curls. "And they even tamed the mane. Very nice, Charlie. Though I was hoping for something more like the look you sported in high school."

"I'm not in high school any more, Father."

"No, you're not." Alan smiled his approval. "Amita, what do you think of the transformation?"

Beaming, Amita reached up with her left hand and stroked Charlie's cheek. "He's always been wonderful, but now he's perfect."

"Amita!" Millie exclaimed. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Hmm?" Amita said coyly. "Oh, you mean this?" She held up her hand, displaying the engagement ring.

Charlie had the wisdom to step back out of the way as the women swarmed around Amita. He turned to face his grinning brother.

"Buddy!" Don pulled him into an enthusiastic, back slapping hug. "You did it! Finally! It only took a couple of years for you to get up the nerve. Congratulations!"

Larry stepped forward, grinning happily, and shook Charlie's hand. "Charles, this is wonderful. You and Amita are perfect for each other."

Charlie glanced from his best friend to his brother. "Now I've got to decide who will be my best man. Is it possible to have two best men? Has it been done before?"

Alan laughed. "This from the man who does things with math nobody ever dreamed of before. Charlie, if you want a dozen best men, I think you should do it."

"Yeah, Buddy. Amita will just have to find two maids of honor for us to dance with at the reception. Symmetry, right, Larry?"

Larry's brow furrowed. "Symmetry. Yes, of course, Don. Wedding parties are an excellent example of symmetry."

"Charlie! My man!" David said, grinning broadly as he and Colby approached. "You are one lucky son of a gun. Congratulations."

Colby shook his head. "No offense to any of the other ladies here, but you've managed to get yourself the hottest woman in Pasadena. How on earth did you do it, Whiz Kid?"

Charlie's eyes were irresistibly drawn to Amita, almost hidden by the women admiring her ring. As if she felt his gaze, she glanced up and blew him a kiss. Charlie touched his fingertips to his lips and blew a kiss back at her. He grinned at Colby. "I don't know. It defies logic, doesn't it?"

"Aw, man, I didn't mean..."

"Don't worry about it, Colby. Every time I look at her, I wonder how I got so..."

"Lucky!" Don said, laughing. "The high priest of logic was going to say 'lucky.'"

"In the vernacular, yes, it was luck," Charlie huffed. "I'm sure there's a deeper logic at work that I just don't see yet."

"Maybe," Alan said, "just maybe it's the clothes. Clothes do make the man, you know."

"I'm beginning to realize that," Charlie said. "But, now for important things. I chose Pie 'n Burger for a reason. I'm starved!"

The End


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